


The Humans Beat Me to It

by Iwouldwrite1000fics



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Assumptions, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-06-29 17:50:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19835446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwouldwrite1000fics/pseuds/Iwouldwrite1000fics
Summary: Aziraphale has a go to mindset when it comes to bad things happening in the world: Crowley did it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Why am I writing more Good Omens?! I have other Works in Progress that are all overdue for updates ugh! You wonderfully tempting fandom you.

Contrary to what many of his demonic co-workers thought Crowley didn’t actually take his Bentley every time he needed to be somewhere. There were times he’d rather walk. Most times it was, because he didn’t want to travel in rush hour, especially during the holiday season. So that was how the demon found himself at King’s Cross station on the night of the 18 of November 1987.

Crowley was rather prone to being in the wrong place at the wrong time after all.

He sensed something was wrong the moment he stepped off the train. Nothing was immediately obvious though. People were bustling back and forth, rushing off home or to their next destination as per the norm. Still it was… it was spooky.

Moving off to the side he got to a wall between the Victoria and Piccadilly line escalators and let his tongue flicker out for just a second.

He could taste the ash.

Moving quickly to find its source he spotted a man with the transport police trying to point to something on the escalator. Crowley pushed the emergency stop. People grumbled, but moved away and that was Crowley’s goal.

As the people cleared the escalator all three men could see a bright glow flickering up from beneath the wooden steps. There was hesitancy to act though and Crowley felt it. Hell wasn’t the only place filled with compartmentalized bureaucracy. Also they couldn’t tell how big the fire was, how dangerous it was, but he could. It was already bigger than even he could stop. His lot was about all about starting fires not putting them out. So Crowley fell back on the next best things: influence and temptation. 

He started letting workers think that it would be okay to call the fire brigade without going to a supervisor just this once. When they began to rope off the area there was the thought that they really should establish a bigger barrier and probably evacuate the station just to be safe. He started holding back trains as best he could, because you know they really should let more people on, bigger ridership numbers for the yearend review and all that. Tempting would be passengers on the street that they really could window shop a few minutes longer there would be more trains coming after all.

***

Aziraphale huffed in frustration as he finally made it off his train and into King’s Cross. He had wanted to be home long before the rush of shoppers and sightseers, but for some reason every train was delayed. He barely had time to dwell on that though as he and everyone else was quickly directed off the platform and up to the ticket hall by several police officers, completely missing the blocked off escalators to his right. 

While many were left wondering what was wrong Aziraphale found himself growing more frustrated by the minute especially as he came off the escalator and saw tucked back from the crowd a mop of familiar red hair, a flash of black, the snap of fingers.

And then the sprinkler system went off.

Shocked commuters began rushing for the exits. Aziraphale on the other hand stormed over to the man in black. 

“What the devil are you playing at?”

Crowley turned around in shock. “Aziraphale! Listen you need to leave it’s not safe-no-no wait this is perfect you can help-”

Aziraphale cut him off, offended. “I’m not helping you incite panic in the city’s busiest station in central London.”

Now it was Crowley’s turn to be offended. “What, no! I’m-”

“Spreading ferment yes I know,” he said, gesturing to the building cloud of smoke above their heads.

“Aziraphale, really if you could remove your head from your arse for two seconds we can-” 

“No, we cannot do anything. Helping you solely in your demonic work is not part of the Arrangement I’m not discussing this anymore.”

“But-”

“Not one more word.”

With that he turned on his heel and stalked off for the nearest stairs and up to the street.

Crowley threw up his hands in exasperation, but at least his angel was safe.

“Sir, for your own safety I need you to exit the station now!” One of the firemen shouted at him. 

Those words snapped Crowley back fully to the task at hand and with growing terror he realized that his safety was now in jeopardy too. The heat that he had felt rising for the last ten minutes, it was everywhere now there walls were practically pulsing with it, the smoke was turning black. Just as with the blitz they’d reached a tipping point that even his powers couldn’t combat. There was nothing more he could do now. 

Crowley indeed tried to make it to the exit himself, but with a great roar a wall of heat and flame suddenly shot up from the escalator into the ticket hall and the force of it slammed him into the nearest actual wall.


	2. Chapter 2

Aziraphale managed to make it two blocks down from the station his frustration and outrage quickening his gate. He couldn’t believe Crowley was back to his old tricks already. Trying once again to ruin the commute for everyone in London; really the M25 had only opened last year! Wasn’t that enough? Clearly not. 

All of that was forgotten in an instant though as there was a sudden terrific rush of sound behind him, like an explosion. And then came the fire and police sirens and people screaming. Aziraphale turned around and rushed back hoping that it wasn’t another terror act. He arrived to see the stairs down to the station, that he’d come up not ten minutes before, now bellowing out thick black smoke.

“No.”

***

Meanwhile five feet below him Crowley moaned from his spot on the floor. He didn’t remain dazed on the ground for long though, the screaming of those around him saw to that. Not that he could actually see anything. Thick black smoke was everywhere, he couldn’t see his own hand in front his face. He dug deep into his demonic reserves and tried to push it away just for a few moments. 

He cleared it enough to see a man in a white hat, the fireman from earlier. Not even two feet away trying to help a woman to safety. They were so close. From his spot Crowley could just make out the edge of the stairs next to them.

Crowley pushed his own pain down as he scrambled up behind them pushing them up. “Come on.”

It was getting harder to focus, but still Crowley tried, tried to keep the smoke and flames at bay, trying to keep the path clear. It seemed to be working as other people grabbed onto to the trio, Crowley could feel tight grips against his arms and legs, of those desperate to escape.

He imagined that they weighed nothing to keep going, inch by inch. Though he was pretty sure he was imagining the cooling air that seemed to drift over them with each step up. The bright lights that seemed to illuminate the black fog humans didn’t have torches like that; then the strong hands on his shoulders that pulled everyone the rest of the way up the stairwell.

Then in a moment he was up on the street. The sirens blaring and the lights flashing, water rushing everywhere and all of it was utterly over whelming. He began hacking as the smoke and clean air fought for space in his lungs. It was choking thick, he felt like he couldn’t breathe and in his now panicked state it didn’t matter that he technically didn’t need to. His eyes burned, his throat burned, every sound was just ringing in his ears. He hadn’t felt close to this awful since the Fall.

He staggered towards the nearest building and collapsed against the wall. There was shooting pain on one side of his chest as he coughed, it felt like it was on fire. Crowley pressed his hand there in a moment of clarity in case it actually was. His hand came away wet and black with what he recognized as blood, his blood.

“Oh, that can’t be good.”

Then his lungs heaved once more and he was left retching and coughing against the pavement. The last thing he saw through the tears and haze before blessed unconsciousness took him was his vision filled with white.

***

It was chaos, partially controlled chaos if any superiors asked, but still chaos. Police cars and ambulances were everywhere trying to keep curious onlookers at a safe distance and help those who were hurt. Firemen were trying to get down below to rescue those still in the station, but the heat and the smoke was quickly proving overwhelming. Moving unseen between all of them Aziraphale worked while Crowley’s last words played over and over in his head.

_“You need to leave it’s not safe.”_

Crowley knew. He knew this was happening. 

_“You can help.”_

He didn’t. Instead he stormed off in a fit self-righteousness and for all he knew Crowley was still down there. So he was doing his best to help now. Letting there be light enough to pierce the darkness. Trying to cool down the steps so they could get down and helping to heal any burn injuries he could see.

Suddenly there was a shout from one of the exits as survivors appeared and the firemen began pulling people up to safety. Some of the men headed down as the steps were cleared and others tended to the injured. Aziraphale scanned his eyes over the group trying to spot that familiar black and red that he’d seen not half an hour ago.

He had to be here he couldn’t be gone.

Then to his great relief Aziraphale spotted the demon crumpled against a wall.

“Crowley!”

Crowley gave no indication that he’d heard anything. His body just writhed on the sidewalk as he coughed and to Aziraphale’s horror he saw a growing pool of black underneath him. It wasn`t just the smoke and heat he was hurt. Aziraphale knew he couldn’t stay here there would be too many questions. It wouldn’t take the humans long to notice him and want to give aid, and he couldn’t very well help Crowley through the chaos and insist he was fine to others. His powers were stretched thin as it was. 

So with limited other options Aziraphale let his wings unfurl and gathered Crowley, who had gone completely limp, up into his arms. He conjured up as many miraculous escapes as he could, including his own, and then kicked off into the sky.

Crowley’s body reacted to the change in altitude and instinctively coughed again, trying to clear the smoke and worryingly tearing at the wound. Aziraphale kept one hand curled tight to his side to try and curb the stream of blood.

“I’ve got you, my dear fellow, I’ve got you.”

***

Reality came back slowly to Crowley. The first thing he noticed was that he was warm. Not the stifling heat of the blazing fire warm, but the cozy kind. He opened his eyes and blinked several times before the blobs of brown and beige settled into familiar shapes that he recognized as the bookshop.

Checking himself over he saw that his shirt was gone and a thick blanket covered him instead. He tried to sit up, but quickly stopped as pain shot through him and a hand was on his shoulder.

“Don’t move too much. I managed to close the wound and set it, but you’re liable to be very sore.”

“Yeah, yeah I got that,” Crowley groaned, and sunk back down on the couch.

He coughed, but it was far lighter than before. Not that that stopped Aziraphale from fussing over him.

“I’m all right just dry.”

The angel nodded and disappeared from the room. He quickly returned with a glass of water and helped Crowley drink it. As Aziraphale took the empty glass from his lips Crowley noticed the news report on the TV.

“They said they got the fire out about an hour ago,” Aziraphale said.

“How many did we lose?”

“They haven’t given final numbers.”

“Damn.”

“As far as I know everyone was taken to hospital. There’s a chance that they’ll all make it.” 

Crowley snorted softly keeping how foolishly hopeful that was to himself. Aziraphale always had to hope it was who he was.

“They know what you did. Several people being interviewed wanted to thank a mysterious man in black.”

“Great I’ll let Johnny Cash take the credit.”

As he indulged in self-pity for not doing more Crowley noticed a patch of white on the floor, a feather. He picked it up and twirled it lightly in his fingers before the realization hit him.

“You flew me here.”

“You needed the fresh air.”

“Well that’s going to be something to explain at your next performance review.”

“Was completely worth it,” Aziraphale said, refusing to meet Crowley’s eyes.

Crowley frowned and finally looking at the angel properly he was shocked to see that it looked like Aziraphale was trying not to cry.

“Angel?”

“I’m so sorry, Crowley. I misjudged you terribly. You were trying to help them and I didn’t want to let myself believe you were capable of it and it nearly cost you everything! If I had helped when you’d asked maybe we could have done more I...” he trailed of and gestured to the TV.

“Angel, nothing that happened there was your fault.”

“And it wasn’t yours either! And yet I was content to blame you anyway, because it’s easier than having to admit the Almighty lets the world be cruel and uncaring. I-I don’t know how I may ever be forgiven, but-”

He stopped as Crowley put his hand on his arm.

“You’re forgiven.”

“Just like that?” he asked incredulously.

“Just like that. I do owe you for saving my life, or at least saving me a lot of paperwork, and since all my tempting was for a good cause I bet they wouldn’t have issued me a new body anyway.”

“Well I owe you the same at least half a dozen times now.”

“See we’re not even, even yet.” Crowley quipped, hoping to get him to smile and having no luck at all.

Gingerly Crowley sat up, keeping the blanket around him and motioned for Aziraphale to sit down next to him.

“Besides you’re clearly beating yourself up over this far more than I ever could.”

That burst the dam and the tears started falling freely. Not even bothering to think better of it Crowley pulled him close allowing Aziraphale to rest against his shoulder as he cried, while blubbering half formed apologies and how he wasn’t worthy of forgiveness through the fit. Crowley just let him get it all out, even tapping into a small amount of demonic reserve to miracle up a handkerchief to clean himself up afterwards.

“Better?” Crowley asked, as Aziraphale wiped his eyes dry.

“Somewhat.”

“Would it help if I stayed here tonight?”

Aziraphale nodded before he could stop himself. It really would help to know that Crowley was here safe and healing.

“Yes, my dear, I-I mean you really shouldn’t be left alone like this.”

“Definitely not you’ll ruin the reputation of the shop next door if I leave here with no shirt.”

That finally did get Aziraphale to smile. “And how would it look at your next review if you didn’t milk the kindness of an angel and keep him from focusing on any other good deeds for say, the next week at least?”

“Exactly.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence then watching the news, and Aziraphale felt his heart flutter as the numbers stayed the same. The injured remained only injured and no one else was found. He didn’t voice that joy to Crowley though as heard the demon’s breathing even out and slow, his body still recovering from the ordeal. Aziraphale simply adjusted the blanket around both of them, gratefully that he almost never slept so he could continue to watch over him, and keep him safe. Crowley would clearly do no less for him or anyone else after all.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is in no way meant to diminish the tragedy of the King's Cross fire. Just that when seeing pointless tragedies there's a great desire to want to be able to fix them. To have them not turn out the way we know they did, and in the world of fantasy there can be someone, or demon in this case, trying to fix them.


End file.
